The Brit and the Bastard
by Sacred-Amaranth
Summary: House meets his match in one of his patients and falls for her. Cuddy sees this and realizes just how much she loves House. Can she tell House of her feelings before its too late? Or has she already lost him to Jean? Co-authored fic with stsgirlie.
1. Chapter 1

Jean Brodie sat at her desk, in her corner classroom on the second floor, a prestigious spot in a prestigious school. Marcia Blaine, a girls' boarding school for the upper crust, had well-defined notions of prestige. Jean disagreed, in the strongest possible terms, with the school's definition of prestige. The headmistress and her staff clung to old, outmoded traditions, believing "young ladies" could still be created amidst the chaos of modern culture. Marcia Blaine imposed prestige and tradition in forms that crushed a young woman's individuality, her independence, heavy weights that forbid the exposition of truth, goodness, and beauty in Jean Brodie's eyes.

It was unacceptable. Jean preferred assassination to witnessing one of her girls converted into a Stepford Wife. Indeed, this process was unacceptable. Marcia Blaine was Jean's vocation. It was her duty, her destiny, to save these girls, her special girls, from such a soul-crushing lifestyle.

Unfortunately, Miss MacKay stood in destiny's way. Miss MacKay, the esteemed headmistress and guardian of all things Marcia Blaine, had a passion for strict, old-fashioned rules and values as strong as Jean's determination to save her girls from those very concepts. The two women clashed every time they shared the same air, neither willing to give an inch in this battle for young souls.

Such was the case now. Miss Mackay, in her capacity as Headmistress, felt compelled to halt Jean's production of "Othello," on the grounds that it was highly inappropriate for "young children." Jean, in a counterattack, used her connections within the parents' organization. She contacted the father of one of her girls, a playwright, and whispered "censorship." Appalled at Miss MacKay's efforts to censor a student production of one of Shakespeare's greatest plays, he appealed to the Board of Governors. They quickly countermanded Miss MacKay's directive, driven more by Henry Gibbons' frequent checks than a horror of censorship, and the production went forward. The public fiasco humiliated Miss MacKay in front of her staff and her students, a blow to her ego that could not pass unchallenged. Miss MacKay vowed to find a way to bend Jean to her will and return the favor at some later date.

Today she instructed her secretary, Miss Gaunt, to interrupt Jean's class by passing on a note requiring Jean's presence in her office at four-fifteen. Not four o'clock, or four-thirty, but four-fifteen sharp.

The memory of that interruption irritated Jean. She winced when she glanced at the clock, it was now four-ten and she must be on her way. Miss MacKay would be even more insufferable should Jean be a few seconds late, punctuality was yet another Marcia Blaine tradition. Sighing, she left her desk, fishing in her purse for her keys. She locked her classroom, then headed for the stairs to her left. She was halfway down the flight when a wave of nausea hit. Gripping the banister for support, Jean began a deep breathing exercise, willing the wave to recede.

During that moment of vulnerability, Miss MacKay came out of her classroom and started down the stairs. Surprised at finding Jean in such a state, she stopped beside her. "Miss Brodie? Are you all right?" Her tone was concerned enough, but Jean was neither foolish or blind. She heard the sarcasm and phoniness dripping from her nemesis's voice, saw the slight smirk on the older woman's face.

She drew another deep breath, then forced a reassuring smile. "Of course, Miss MacKay. Why wouldn't I be?" She started for the bottom of the stairs, ignoring the unbearable throbbing in her head and the companionship of Miss MacKay.

Unconvinced, but pleased by release from the duty to attend to a staff member's unwell state, the headmistress nodded. "Very well then." They reached the corridor junction at the foot of the staircase and Miss MacKay guided Jean to the right, to her office. "Do come in." She opened the door and ushered the younger woman inside and to a chair in front of her desk. She sat behind her desk, a symbol of her authority, and regarded Jean for a long moment.

She cleared her throat as she picked up a pen, toying with it. "Now. I realize you may have done things differently in Edinburgh, at your previous, shall we say, progressive school, but here at Marcia Blaine we have standards. We seek to preserve the nearly forgotten traditions by which to raise proper young ladies. Miss Brodie, are you listening?" She dropped the pen and stared at her subordinate. Jean ignored her, in a state of near panic, swatting furiously at her arms and legs, her breathing ragged and growing more so with each passing second.

"Why are you doing this?" Jean screamed, smacking her legs, her eyes wide with terror. "What are you doing to me?" She furiously scratched her head, her face, her neck. "What, why, oh God...."

"Doing what? Miss Brodie, what on Earth are you talking about?"

"Snakes, spiders, and fire ants! They're everywhere and all over me! I-I can't get them off!" she exclaimed as she stood up.

"Miss Brodie, there is nothing on you! You're hallucinating! You-" but before she could finish that sentence Miss Brodie had collapsed onto the ground on her hands and knees.

"I can't breathe! I-I can't breathe!" she whispered as she clutched her chest.

The headmistress's dislike for the other woman immediately vanished as the teacher in her came in full throttle and she opened the door and called to her secretary. "Miss Gaunt! Call 911! We need an ambulance here immediately!" She crouched beside Jean and began rubbing her back soothingly. "It's alright, Jean, it's alright. Just take it easy."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"House!" Cuddy's voice pierced the air as she stormed into House's office. "Would you care to tell me why you told a forty-nine year old male that he has PMS?"

"Because he does. Psychotic Male Syndrome." House answered simply as he swung his legs up over his desk.

"House! I swear to God, if you screw with one more clinic patient I'll-"

"What? Assign me more clinic hours and more patients to screw with?"

Cuddy opened her mouth to respond but then thought better of it. "Forget it. You've got a new case. Thirty four year old Caucasian female, nausea-"

"Bo-ring!"

"Dizziness, trouble breathing and hallucinations."

"Single?"

"How the hell should I know?"

"Attractive?"

"Not your type."

"Ah, red-head?"

"No, blonde. Don't bother; she's a boarding school teacher. Long distance wouldn't work for you."

"Ooh, a school marm. Interesting…Reminds me of this one fantasy I've had where I'm in detention-"

"House, go, NOW!"

"Don't worry, it's nothing compared to the one of you as the school girl and me as the dashing professor you've been in love with."

"House-"

"I'm going!" House said as he limped his way out of his office where Foreman, Chase and Cameron were waiting by the elevator leaving a slightly blushing Cuddy to wonder what other fantasies ran through his brilliant mind and whether or not she continued to star in them.

AN: Revised Version so kindly done by The Profane Angel


	2. Chapter 2

. Chapter 2

"So why the hell should I care about this case?" House asked as they stepped into the elevator.

"Because Cuddy will give you more clinic hours if you don't," Cameron replied, pressing the button for their floor.

"She's not going to give me more clinic hours," House said. The elevator opened, and they stepped out. House limped down the corridor, flanked by Cameron, Foreman, and Chase. "Because she knows that all I'll do is mess with their heads."

Foreman smiled despite himself.

"So, tell me about this patient. She's a teacher at an all-girls boarding school, right? I bet they get up to some kinky stuff there," House said.

Chase rolled his eyes while Cameron dutifully opened the file.

"All right. Patient's name is Jean Brodie; age thirty four; originally from Edinburgh, Scotland, and has been in the States for a year; profession: teacher; symptoms include dizziness, trouble breathing, nausea, and hallucinations," Cameron read aloud.

"Get an MRI with contrast, EEG, LP, and blood panel. Oh, and check for STDs," House ordered, heading into his office. He took a seat at his desk and began throwing his red ball against the wall. Cameron, Foreman, and Chase hurried off.

Cameron and Chase wheeled their patient to the MRI room and laid her on the table.

Jean looked inside the MRI machine, then up at the dark-haired man she could see standing next to her.

"The space inside is smaller than I thought," she said.

"Don't worry, Jean," the man replied, holding her hand reassuringly. "The doctors are going to take good care of you, right?" he said, looking at them.

"Once the Valium kicks in, you'll feel better," Chase said.

"And then we'll have some nice, warm milk when you're done," the man told her.

"I'd rather have more Valium," she replied.

"Jean," the man scolded her, amused.

"Let's wait just a bit, see how it goes," Cameron said. "Try to lie as still as possible." She pressed a button on the MRI machine and Jean reluctantly let go of the man's hand. Cameron and Chase entered the adjoining room to monitor the tests.

"Everything's normal," Chase said in surprise once the MRI was complete.

"Let's get her back to her room, then," Cameron said, and they wheeled Jean Brodie back to her room.

"All the tests were negative," Chase reported.

"Ethanol could have psychoactive effects," Foreman suggested.

"Idiot," House shot back. "Where would a boarding school teacher come in contact with ethanol? She doesn't teach science," he said.

"How do you know that?" Foreman asked.

House produced her purse.

"I should have known," Cameron murmured. House shuffled through their patient's wallet.

"Credit card, driver's license, thirty dollars in cash, school identification card, house keys, a copy of "Pride and Prejudice" – no science teacher would have that in her purse, and a photograph of a dark-haired man in front of Holyroodhouse in Edinburgh," House said, laying each item out as he spoke of it.

"Could be a streptococcal infection," Chase suggested, ignoring the contents of their patient's wallet.

"Nope," House said. "Next guess."

"Haemochromatosis," Cameron said. "It's common among those of British and Irish descent."

"But she has normal iron levels," Foreman countered.

"Test for Creutzfeldt-Jakob," House said.

"Mad cow disease?" Chase said, incredulous.

"She was in Germany during the outbreak," House replied.

"And you know that because..." Cameron asked, trailing off as House held up her passport.

"I'm assuming that she doesn't carry that around with her," Chase said.

"And you would be right," House said.

"So you went to her house?" Cameron pushed.

"Nope. The headmistress of the school brought it over," House replied.

"I'm not going to do a brain biopsy on this woman," Chase said. "She hasn't had any seizures. She was in Germany years ago – it would have shown up by now if she did have it. I'm not going to do a potentially fatal operation to test for something she doesn't have."

"Suit yourself," House said, leaning back in his chair. "Go search her house, then."

"Fine," he replied huffily.

An hour later, he had returned. "There's nothing there – all her food is organic, even organic meat. It's not Creutzfeldt-Jakob."

"Go talk to her anyway," House said. "Ask her if she ate any meat when she was in Germany all those years ago. It does have an incubation period. Cameron, Foreman, go with him."

They nodded and left with Chase for their patient's room.

"You've already done everything," Jean said.

"We may have missed something," Foreman replied patiently.

"I just want to go back to Marcia Blaine. I'm sure I'm fine now," Jean stated.

"Jean, the doctors know best," the dark-haired man from the photograph said. He was sitting in a chair at the foot of her bed.

"You had some serious symptoms. The hallucinations, the nausea..." Cameron said.

Jean interrupted her. "If I have them again, I'll come right back, okay?"

"If you have one while you're driving..." the man said.

"You can drive me. Make sure I take it easy," Jean replied, smiling at the man.

"Who can?" Foreman asked.

"Teddy can," Jean replied, looking at Foreman confusedly.

"Who's Teddy?" Cameron asked.

"My lover," Jean said coolly.

"He's here?" Chase asked.

"What are you talking about? He's right there," Jean said, pointing to where Teddy was sitting.

All three doctors looked over to where she was pointing – there was no one there.


End file.
